


A Marvelous Invention

by avantegarda



Series: It's the New World, Darling-A 19th-20th Century AU [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Drama, Gen, Humor, It's a dramedy is what im getting at here, golly it's been a while, i used to write so many of these
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-02 02:12:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17879144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avantegarda/pseuds/avantegarda
Summary: In 1892, Fëanor Gates, Britain's most brilliant inventor, unveils a creation destined to change the world--though not all of his children are equally impressed.





	A Marvelous Invention

_ London, 1892 _

 

When a fellow’s packing for an extremely important musical tour of the continent, the last thing he wants is one of his endless supply of younger brothers interrupting him. So I think the fact that I managed not to give Celegorm a good wallop in the face when he burst into my room shows some jolly good restraint.

“You have thirty seconds to tell me what you’re in here for and then depart, or I’ll beat you about the head with a Stradivarius,” I informed him.

“Look, old boy, Pater’s on the warpath,” Celegorm drawled. “He’s apparently got this brilliant new invention that’s going to make us all richer than God. So he’s insisting we all come downstairs immediately.”

“Doesn’t he say that every week? And aren’t we rich enough?”

“Are we  _ ever _ ? Come downstairs, it won’t take a moment.”

In the end, I let him drag me down to the parlor, if only to avoid any fuss. It couldn’t take more than than a few minutes for Dad to present whatever new kitchen implement he’d invented, and then I could get back to packing and figuring out exactly what I’d say to Elemmire Virtanen if she tried to give me any more of that “constructive criticism” of hers.

“Ah, good, you’ve dragged Maglor out of his den,” Father remarked as we entered the parlor. He stood in front of a small end table on which was placed an elaborate red-and-gold box. “I’m aware that you rarely pay attention to anything but music, my lad, but do try to make an exception for once. What I’ve got to show you is something that’s going to change luxury commerce in all of the civilized world.”

Dad tends to talk like this a lot when it comes to his own inventions, so I was inclined to give him the same amount of attention I usually do (e.g. nil). Truth is, there are a fair few things my father and I don’t see eye to eye on, though after I was packed off to music school in Vienna when I was fourteen and we only had to see each other for three months a year we got on much better. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say.

Anyway, my point is that as fond as Dad and I were of each other, our spheres of interest didn’t much overlap, which is why I wasn’t expecting much out of this particular exhibition of genius. 

The rest of the family had gathered in the parlor as well, including Mum (covered in dust as usual, as she’d been working on a commission from some duke to reproduce a few Greek statues for his garden) and an exhausted-looking Maedhros, who had only just gotten back from a hunting trip in Scotland with a few of the cousins. Why we all had to be there for every one of these unveilings, I couldn’t say, except that no one ever accused my father of lacking in ego.

“Well!” said Dad. “I’m pleased to see that everyone is now here.” He shot me a look, to which I responded by giving him a Stoic Expression and absolutely did not stick out my tongue. “As some of you, particularly Curufin, may know, I’ve recently been experimenting with means of constructing artificial gemstones, which are particularly difficult to reproduce if you’re not working with glass, due to…” (This section redacted due to the fact that it was so full of scientific jargon I couldn’t comprehend a word of it)

“...which is why there have been so many explosions coming from the workshop lately, for which I apologize,” Dad finished. “And yet it has paid off, for here we have the final result, the product of months of research and labor, something that is—if I do say so myself—nothing short of alchemy.”

And he opened the box.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t immediately see what was inside, as all my brothers immediately started crowding around and oohing and ahhing. Eventually I managed, with great dignity, to elbow my way past the twins and get a good look. What was in the box, you ask?”

Diamonds, of course.

Or rather, that’s what they seemed to be. But on closer inspection they weren’t—couldn’t possibly be. No diamonds dug out of a mine were ever that perfectly shaped, angled so that they reflected every spark of light in the room so that they seemed to glow from within. And no natural diamonds were that large, either, nearly the size of a woman’s closed fist. Even I, who was only vaguely aware of anything non-music-related, could tell these were worth a fortune.

“My soon-to-be-patented Artificial Diamonds,” Dad said with quiet satisfaction. “These are the only three in existence for now, of course. It’s an extremely difficult process, making them. If my calculations are correct, these may very well be the most valuable jewels on earth. If not the most valuable objects in general.”

We all stared in awe for a few moments, before Maedhros finally spoke up. “They’re brilliant, Father, absolutely brilliant. Have you found a buyer yet?”

Dad looked horrified. “A  _ buyer _ ? Certainly not. For one thing I doubt there’s a soul alive who could afford them, and for another I’m not letting them out of my sight until I’ve perfected and patented the process. I won’t be having anyone else steal my ideas. So mum’s the word, boys, until I’m ready to go public.”

All of us nodded dutifully, in unison. There had been a few nasty conflicts over the years between our father and some other inventors that had tried to push in on his territory. They’d learned an important lesson: no one wins in a fight against Fëanor Gates.

After another brief silence, I cleared my throat. “Well, congratulations, Father, you’ve truly outdone yourself. Now, I’ve got to wake up at five o’clock tomorrow morning so I can get a train to get a boat to get a train to Paris, so would anyone be horribly offended if I returned to my endless packing?”

“If you must,” Dad said with a sigh. “And remember, Maglor. Not a word to anyone. Understand?”

“Naturally not. And, on a similar note, if any of you bothers me for the next five hours, I  _ will _ beat you about the head with a Stradivarius.”

 

As it happens, I never made it to that train. Not to mention the boat or the other train.

But all of that, of course, is a story for another time.


End file.
